A Clickbait Title for another 30-Day writing challenge

One month ago, I made a commitment to write on Medium every day for thirty days.

The thing is, I didn’t think I’d actually do it. See, I’m a mover. Whether it’s my location, my passion, or my career path, I’m constantly moving. Changing. So I have a hard time sticking to things. And thirty days isn’t even a long time, that’s how unpredictable I can be. It’s gotten to the point in the last couple years, that I’ve stopped trusting myself.

So anyway, I did it. I wrote everyday for thirty days. There was one day that I didn’t have access to a computer so I wrote a tiny little post in my notes app and published it the next day. But I did it.

I wrote about life and love. I wrote letters. I wrote about writing. I wrote about nothing in particular. I wrote about my Soul.

A lot of my writing was crap, and some of it wasn’t so bad. But that was never the point.

This isn’t a story about how a writing challenge changed my life. I’m not quite sure that it did.

This is a story about choosing myself. I didn’t share any of my writing over the last thirty days. If anyone read them it’s because it happened to show up in their Medium feed. And at first I felt like I was doing the challenge wrong. Like if I didn’t let other people know about it, it wouldn’t count.

But then I realized that it didn’t matter if anybody else read my writing. Sure, I’d love for people to read what I write, and I’d love for them to enjoy it. But when I began writing over twenty years ago, I only ever did it for me. It was never for anyone else. And that’s what I’ve been so wrapped up in the last few years.

Writing for others instead of myself. No wonder the words didn’t come easily.

I think my favorite thing about life is how everything connects, eventually. I love that when I chose to do something for me, my world changed. No, I didn’t make hundreds of thousands of dollars overnight. No, not all of my problems were solved. No, nothing got easier.

But what happened was, I began to understand myself more. I became honest with myself. And in that honesty I was able to find love. Compassion for the way I feel in this season of my life. I let go of the ‘rights and wrongs’ of how we’re supposed to feel, and simply allowed myself to feel everything. The confusion, the pain, worry, joy, love, fear.

This writing challenge did not change my life in the ways we now read about all the time. It didn’t make me more enlightened or more successful.

It simply set me free.

Free to feel, to cry, to write bullshit, to tell stories, to release my rage, to be me. Free to trust myself, with my writing and my life.

I hope I keep writing every day. The fact that I’m writing today, after I’ve finished my challenge gives me hope. I understand that it’s all up to me, and no one else. And I trust in that.

I think it’s safe to say, I’ve taken my muchness back.

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